


Chivalry

by mnemosyne23



Category: Lost RPF
Genre: Chivalrous Dom, Drunk Dom, Emilie's not really a damsel in distress, F/M, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-22
Updated: 2006-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne23/pseuds/mnemosyne23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom defends his lady's honor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chivalry

**Author's Note:**

> This could fit into the [Dombilie](http://archiveofourown.org/series/72646) universe established in "Third Wheel," etc, or it could act as a standalone. It's entirely up to you.  
> 

  
_Your sad eyes take and own me;_   
  
_Words are unnecessary._   
  
_Grip the back of your neck and slowly_   
  
_Move 'til it all becomes alright…_   
  
_-Eve 6, "Nocturnal" -_   


* * *

  
"Isn't this place fantastic?" Dom's eyes were alight with giddy happiness as he slid back into their curved corner booth clutching a Guinness for himself and a strawberry daiquiri for her. "Bubbaloo keeps it low key. The paparazzi don't dare come within five miles of this place since he's double the size of most of them, triple the size of the rest."

Emilie beamed at him, taking a sip of her daiquiri. Perfectly chilled and just sweet enough. "It's great," she agreed, looking around. "How'd you find it?"

"Surfing."

Of course. Dom found most things surfing. It was like the waves would chuck him up on the beach in front of some new and interesting diversion. "Bubbaloo is the bartender?" She nodded to the man behind the bar who looked like he weighed in around the same as a full-grown walrus. He was laughing and joking with some of the guys at the bar, and Emilie immediately wanted to be his friend. Mostly because he looked friendly, but also because she didn't EVER want to be his enemy.

"Yep. EXCELLENT guy." Dom took a pull from his Guinness. "Doesn't take bull from anyone." He sighed, resting his chin on his hand and staring dreamily at the kitschy hula dancer bobble doll in the center of the table. "Wish Bill was here. He'd love this place."

Emilie smiled and patted his hand sympathetically. "I'm sure he's found something to keep him occupied in Scotland," she soothed. "He can't ALWAYS be in Hawaii or L.A."

"No, but he could bloody well TRY."

Emilie laughed and leaned over to peck him on the cheek. Dom was too fast for her and twisted his head around so his lips met hers. Emilie smiled against his mouth and let the quick kiss turn into a longer one. He tasted like Guinness, which made a strange combination with her non-alcoholic daiquiri. His breath was saturated with alcohol -- he'd been drinking all night as they barhopped across the island. Emilie was glad she'd chosen to be the designated driver for the evening. "You're cute when you're drunk," she cooed against his lips.

"'Mnot drunk," he murmured back, brushing his lips along her jawline.

"Yes you are." She arched her neck, sighing softly as his lips found the pulse just below her ear.

"Mmm… If I were Orli maybe. But I can hold my liquor." He raised his head and nudged her chin with his nose. "YOU'RE just too sober."

"Drunk."

"Teetotaler."

"Oooh, long words. Not bad for someone who's three sheets to the wind."

"Proves I'm not drunk, dunnit?" His hand started to slide up her thigh under the table.

Emilie nipped at his nose then gently pushed him away. "Wait until we get home, big boy," she purred, batting her lashes at him.

He pouted. "Nobody's watching."

"I'm pretty sure they'd start if I turned into Meg Ryan from _When Harry Met Sally_."

Dom grinned. "Only you wouldn't be faking."

"What makes you say that?" Emilie asked sweetly, taking an innocent sip of her daiquiri.

She could _feel_ Dom's glower. "Because you don't fake with me," he said firmly.

"Mmm."

"You don't, Emilie, admit it."

"Nothing to admit, Dom."

"Emilie, come on!" He sat forward, giving her his best impersonation of a puppy dog. "Say it. Say you don't fake with me."

Before she could say anything, a shadow fell across the table. The pair of them looked up to see a man built like a Mac truck standing next to their curved booth. "Hello," he said, talking straight to Emilie and completely ignoring Dom. "My name's Harry. What's yours?"

Emilie stared at the guy for a good ten seconds. "I'm sorry -- should I care what your name is?" she asked when it became obvious he was waiting for an answer.

"I'm the answer to all your problems," he said with a drunken grin, and Emilie realized with amusement that he was actually trying to _hit_ on her. "Including this loser." He gestured vaguely in Dom's direction.

Oh dear.

There were certain things people never said to Dom. One of those things was _You're a loser_. Oh, sure, if Billy was joking around and said, _You're such a loser, Dommie_ , that was okay. Or if they were filming a particularly dramatic scene and Dom dropped an ice cube down Maggie's back, and she screamed, _Dom, you loser!_ while laughing hysterically, then fine. But no one ever, EVER called him a loser to his face and meant it. People tended to forget he'd grown up in Manchester. People tended to forget he'd always been smaller than just about everyone. People tended to forget that kind of thing made you a scrapper.

Emilie reached out and laid a hand on Dom's arm, trying to avert the inevitable tirade before it began, but she was already too late. One glance at his face told her all she needed to know. His eyes were on fire, and if he'd been drunk a second ago, he was dead sober now.

"The lady's not interested," he spat at the hulking man. The man, Emilie noted anew, who was at least twice his size. "Why don't you toddle off and find yourself a hydrant, there's a good dog."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You trying to insult me?"

"No, actually. There's no _try_ about it. I'm deliberately insulting you."

"Dom," Emilie said softly, but he shook her off as he slid out of the booth.

"Now sod off," he said, glaring up into Harry's eyes. He came to the other man's chest.

Emilie felt her heart constricting. "Dom, stop it, let's just go," she said, grabbing her purse.

"No, Emilie, we're not doing anything wrong," Dom said flatly, still staring into the larger man's face. "It's arsehole here who's ruining everyone's good time."

"There a problem, guys?" Bubbaloo asked from the bar, and his voice held a threat that a sober person wouldn't ignore.

Two drunk men with their testosterone pumping like tribal drums, however, were a different story.

"Nothing wrong, Bubba," Dom said, still not looking away. "Just reacquainting this fellow with his parentage. It appears he's a son of a bitch."

That did it. Harry didn't seem to be a man of many words -- Emilie supposed a head that small sacrificed too much brain capacity for speech to be a big priority -- but what he didn't have in vocal skill he made up for in brawn. Without preamble he brought one meaty fist up to slam into the side of Dom's head, sending the smaller man crashing into a nearby table. "DOM!" Emilie shrieked, nearly overturning her own table as she leapt to her feet.

Dom didn't seem to hear her. Propping himself up on his hands, he spat what looked like a mouthful of blood out to the side and glared up at Harry. "That how you want to play it?" he snarled, and leapt.

Dom was remarkably agile. Bubbaloo was hauling himself out from behind the bar to come break the fight up, but before he'd even gotten around the corner Dom had already gotten Harry backed into a corner, using the larger man's relative sluggishness against him; Harry managed to land one blow for each of Dom's five. Of course, Harry's punches were like a freight train compared to Dom's, which were more like a small Ugo. But Dom didn’t seem to notice.

"Dom, STOP IT!" Emilie cried, wondering why the rest of the people in the bar weren't trying to break up the fight; were just staring like it was some kind of exhibit at the zoo. Finally extricating herself from the booth she grabbed Dom and pulled on his shoulder, trying to drag him away from the fight. He shook her off and dove back in. "Goddammit, Dom, I said STOP!"

"You heard the lady," Bubbaloo said, finally shouldering into the melee. His massive bulk put a stop to the fight like a fire hose. Dom staggered backward, bleeding from the corner of his mouth and a cut above his eye, and God knew how many bruises he must have. Harry looked less the worse for wear, though he was breathing hard and leaning against the wall. "I want the pair of you out of here NOW. Don't come back till you're sobered up."

"Thank you," Emilie told the bartender, grabbing Dom by the arm with one hand and her purse with the other. "I'm sorry about the mess."

"Don't worry about it," Bubbaloo said. "Just get him home."

Emilie smiled at him, then glared at Dom, who was in turn still glaring at Harry. "I will," she said through gritted teeth. "Let's go, Dom."

Dom let her start to pull him away, but before they got too far, he lashed out with one foot and caught Harry a cracking blow to the knee. The bigger man let out a howl of pain and lunged for him, but Bubba stepped in front to hold him off.

"Tell your buddies at work tomorrow that you got your six foot two, built like a brick shithouse self's ass kicked by a HOBBIT!" Dom snarled as Emilie dragged him out the door.

They may have been quiet before, but as the door swung shut behind them, Emilie heard the rest of the bar's customers cheering.

\-----------------------

Dom leaned against the doorframe as Emilie fiddled with the key in the lock. His face was already sore, which meant he'd want to die come morning. Then there were his ribs. He was certain he must look like a mince pie from all the bruising.

"What were you thinking, Dom?" Emilie muttered, finally getting the door open and stuffing her keys back in her purse. Grabbing his arm, she slung it around her shoulders and helped him into the house, kicking the door shut behind her. "That guy was twice your size! You could have been really hurt!"

"He was nothing," Dom assured her as she fiddled behind her to lock the deadbolt and shoot the chain across. "I've taken worse."

"Well thank God I wasn't there to see _that_ , or I'd've had a heart attack. Come on."

She helped him into the living room and stretched him out on their sofa. Dom moaned softly as the giving plush upholstery wrapped around his sore ribs. "Shit," he groaned, wincing as he shifted around, trying to find a more comfortable position.

"Lay still," Emilie told him. "I'm going to get some ice."

She didn't have to tell him twice. Dom stared at the ceiling and toed off his shoes, listening to her clatter around in the kitchen, running a bowl of water and getting ice from the fridge. "What if someone tells the press, hmm?" she called back to him. "Your face'll be all over the papers tomorrow if they do!"

"Bubba won't say anything."

"Maybe Bubba won't, but someone else might! You just HAD to throw in that hobbit line, didn't you?" She came back into the living room carrying a bowl of water, a facecloth and a towel wrapped around some ice. "Here, hold this against your eye," she soothed, handing him the compress as she kicked the ottoman closer so she could sit beside him.

Dom winced as he pressed the ice against his throbbing eye, but he was thankful to feel the pain ebb a bit from the cold. "Don't worry, no one's going to find out," he assured her. "It's cool, Emilie. I swear."

"I just worry about you, Dom," she continued to fuss, dipping the facecloth in the water and bringing it up to pat the corner of his mouth. He winced but she pressed on. "That was such a silly thing to do! That guy was so drunk he couldn't think straight. We should have just left."

He knew she was worried because her accent was getting thicker. _Wae shudda jest LIFT._ "No, he was the one being a ponce, not us," he argued, though it lost some authority thanks to the swelling around his cheek that garbled his speech. "Now he'll think twice before chatting up pretty girls in pubs when her boyfriend's there."

Emilie shook her head, nibbling her lip unhappily as she continued dabbing at his face. "What are we going to tell everyone at work? You look like a punching bag."

He grinned -- half a smile, because one side of his face was on strike from the swelling. "Tell them I walked into a door."

"Dom, this is serious."

He sighed and took the compress from his eye so he could look at her. "He was being a prick, Emilie," he told her. "I wasn't going to sit there and let him harass you and insult me."

She looked him in the eye then, and he saw with a start that there were tears on her lashes. "When he hit you I thought he broke your neck," she said hoarsely, and he knew she was trying not to cry. "Do you know how SCARED I was, Dom? I've never _been_ so bloody scared. Don't you ever, EVER do that again. _EVER_. Chivalry's dead. Let it rest in peace, all right?"

Dom lifted his hand, ignoring the ache in his shoulder, and gently cupped her cheek. "I'm British. We INVENTED chivalry. I'll tell you when it's dead or not."

Emilie leaned into his touch, looking utterly broken. He stroked his thumb over her cheekbone, smiling gently to let her know he meant it. Finally, a wan smile crossed her lips as well. "I think it was the French, actually," she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Who invented chivalry. Or at least the word for it."

"Don't ruin this moment, Emilie, honestly."

She laughed and leaned forward to ghost a kiss across his uninjured eye. "Sorry," she murmured, kissing his ear.

"Mmm, apology accepted." He nuzzled her neck and laid a cautious kiss on her shoulder.

Emilie giggled, sitting up far enough to look down into his eyes. "Dom, you're in no condition for sex," she told him sternly.

"Are you kidding?" he asked. "My adrenaline's still pumping. I've never BEEN in a better condition." He half-grinned at her. "Besides, I have to make you moan like Meg Ryan, remember?"

"Are you still on about that?"

"You've wounded my pride, Em. I have to try and rebuild it."

"Well if we have sex I might wound something far more vital than your pride. Your ribs for example."

"A man can live without ribs. Look at good old Adam, eh? Lost a rib and got a woman out of the bargain." He let his hand drift down to rub her hip. "I'll take that any day of the week."

She loved when he rubbed her hips. It turned her docile as a kitten. Dom watched her eyes drift shut and her lips part with a soft sigh. "You're too persuasive, Dominic Monaghan," she murmured dreamily.

"It's a talent," he said with a grin.

Her eyes opened slowly, and she smiled down at him. "I suppose I'll have to do most of the work. Since you can't seem to move."

Dom felt his eyes twinkle. "If you say so, nurse."

"Mmm…" She kissed him very gently, careful not to further aggravate his swollen face. "Doctor's orders." And her fingers started bunching up his t-shirt.

 

\---------------------

 

Getting the shirt off over his head was easier than Emilie had expected, though she suspected that was mostly because Dom wanted to get her naked as fast as possible. Once she'd thrown it aside, however, she had to stop and stare at him.

"Oh, Dom…" she murmured, feeling fresh tears flood her eyes.

His entire torso was a maze of bruises.

"It's nothing, Em, really," he said quietly. "Honest, I don't feel a thing."

Emilie ignored him and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to one particularly dark bruise beneath his heart. She heard him suck in a breath and knew he was a liar.

"I," _kiss_ , "love," _kiss_ , "you," _kiss_ , she murmured, dropping kisses across his upper body, touching each bruise in turn with her lips. Dom's hand came to rest on her hair, stroking gently. "You're too good to me…" She nuzzled his navel.

"No one could be too good to you," he murmured huskily, and she knew his eyes were watching her. "Not possible."

Resting her cheek on his stomach she gazed up at him. One of his eyes was going to swell shut and half his face looked like a puff pastry. He was still the most beautiful man she knew. "I'm going to make love to you, Dominic Monaghan," she murmured. "And it is going to be slow, and warm, and it's going to make you forget all your aches and pains."

His eyes sparkled. "Can I hold you to that? Maybe get a refund if I still have a headache?"

Grinning, she sat up and kissed his forehead. "You won't have a headache anymore," she purred before standing up and gazing down at him. "Promise."

Reaching behind her neck, she unhooked the clasp that held her dress together and let it drift to the floor in a fluttering cascade of azure chiffon. Dom's eyes raked over her nearly-nude body as she unhooked her bra and let that fall to join the dress in a pool at her feet. "Stockings on or off?" she asked, eyes twinkling as her fingers toyed with her thong -- transparent blue, because Dom loved her in blue.

"Off," he murmured, voice gravelly with lust as his fingers reached out to touch her belly.

Emilie smiled at the touch, then hooked her fingers into the waist of her thong and pushed it down her legs. Propping one foot on the edge of the sofa, she slowly rolled down her stocking. Once that was off, she repeated the action with the other leg.

Dom was almost drooling by the end. "Cor, you're going to kill me, Em," he breathed as she dropped the stocking on the floor and stood straight again.

"No, I'm going to make you feel very, very alive," she corrected him.

Kneeling on the floor beside the couch, she started working on the fly of his jeans. Dom's hand idly combed through her hair, and she heard him sigh as she got the zipper open. "Hips up," she said softly, turning her head to kiss his wrist. He complied, and she gently pulled jeans and boxers down his legs and off.

These were the moments she loved best with Dom. Some nights they were loud and downright obnoxious when they had sex. Those nights were fun and thrilling and daring. But other nights were like this one, and for all she loved when they played rough games and broke furniture, _these_ were the nights she treasured. There was no artifice between them; no pretending to be other than they were. She got to be Emilie and he got to be Dom, and everything else was stripped away. She suspected that was why he'd asked her to take her stockings off tonight -- he wanted to be utterly with _her_ , nothing else. No barriers.

Kissing the ridge of his hip, she shivered as his fingers dipped beneath the curtain of her hair to stroke the nape of her neck. "Now I know what all those Egyptian pharaohs must've felt like," he murmured, voice raspy with arousal. "Pretty girls kneeling around them, looking so damn fuckable and totally theirs."

Emilie smiled and nuzzled the crease of his thigh, enjoying his moan. "King Dom?" she teased, glancing up his body before turning her attention back to the front.

Dom chuckled. "King Dom," he agreed. "Got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"I could get used to it," she asserted, and closed her mouth around his cock.

She knew the move surprised him because his fingers clutched at her hair, pulling sharply as his hips lifted away from the couch. "Fuuuuuck, Em," he moaned, his fingers loosening and grabbing her shoulder instead. "Oh Christ…"

Emilie moaned softly around his cock and heard him choke out a groan in answer. Planting her hands on his hips to hold him still, she began bobbing her head, grazing her teeth along his length as her tongue made slow, licentious circles around him.

"Yes… Yes, yes, yes, FUCK, Emilie, YES," Dom panted, his hips twitching beneath her hands. She allowed him a little freedom of movement, and he began to make shallow thrusts into her mouth.

"You're so beautiful," he mumbled, his fingers leaving her shoulder to tangle in her hair again. "So fucking beautiful. And sexy as hell. Oh fucking hell, Emilie, FASTER."

His hips began straining under her hands but she kept him pinned. If she let him go wild he'd end up pulling something in his already tender midsection, and she didn't want that on her conscience as well as everything else that had happened tonight. He was hot and desperate in her mouth -- she could taste his arousal, and it made the juncture of her legs wet with anticipation.

Slowly, she drew away.

"What the…?" Dom gasped as she raised her head. The eyes her turned on her were desperate. "What kind of bloody tease was that!" he demanded, sounding ready to cry.

Emilie smiled for him as she climbed up on the couch. "I was just getting you ready," she murmured, throwing her leg across his waist and kissing his nose. "But you have to promise to take it easy."

"Em!" He was twisting underneath her.

"Promise me, Dom. Promise you'll let me do the work."

"Fine, fine, fuck all, just do it NOW."

Emilie kissed his cheek and sat up. "Shhh," she soothed, reaching between them to take him firmly in hand. He pulsed in her palm, and she knew he was ready to explode. "Easy, remember. Easy…"

Guiding him to her entrance, Emilie kept her eyes trained on Dom's face. A frenzy of emotions passed over his abused face, from eagerness, to desperation, to lust, to hope. It froze on hope as she sank down on him, her body molding around his familiar shape like a tailored glove. She shivered with pleasure as he moved deeper, until she was sitting on his hips. "Oh yes…" she breathed, letting her eyes close and her head loll backward. "Oh, Dom…"

His hands rose to hold her hips, squeezing firmly. "I love how we fit," he rasped, his palms rough against her soft skin.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, laying her hands on his forearms as she started to rock. "Oh God…"

Her body settled into a steady roll, back rippling with each downward push. Her hands slid from Dom's arms to rest on his stomach, fingers digging into his abdomen. She felt his hands slide up from her hips to hold her breasts, squeezing firmly, and gasped. "Dom… Dom, my Dom…" she moaned, tilting her head forward to kiss the backs of his hands, dragging her hands up from his stomach to hold his wrists. "Don’t let go… Don't let go, Dom…!"

"Come on, Emilie," he panted, rolling her nipples between his fingers. Bolts of electricity shot through her body, making her hips pick up speed. "Come with me. Just like that… Fuck yes, JUST like that…"

Emilie let her hands drop away from his wrists to plant on his thighs as she bent backwards and started rocking in earnest. She didn't bounce and she didn't thrust; she let her body move as it pleased, and it pleased to move like waves at sea. Each forward motion sent a plume of fire spiraling through her belly to make direct contact with her libido.

When one of his hands dropped from her breast to start rubbing her clit, she knew she was done for.

"Oh GOD!" she exclaimed, one hand flailing forward to grab his arm and squeeze violently. "YES!"

"Come on, Emilie," he moaned, his fingers slick as they slid over her center. "You know you're gorgeous when you come… I love to watch you… Love to know I do that to you… Christ, I'm so close!" His fingers doubled their speed, and Emilie yelped at the added stimulation.

Pushing forward, she planted her hands on his shoulders and arched her body forward, her hair trailing over his chest. "Right there," she panted, wincing from how tight she felt. "Right there, Dom… Oh yes yes yes YES, I'm there, I'm THERE… **DOM!** "

With a guttural cry he slammed up into her as he came, his fingers tweaking her clit. With a soft scream, Emilie felt her orgasm rip through her, her body tightening around him. Warmth spread out from her abdomen, making her toes and fingers tingle and playful spots of color dance in front of her eyes.

"F… Fuck…" Dom gasped, still working her clit, sending glorious aftershocks through her body.

"Oh… Oh my God… Oh yes…" Emilie panted as her body slowly came down from the physical plateau it had reached. Slumping slowly forward, she was careful to hold herself up on her elbows to keep from pressing on his bruised chest. Resting her forehead against his, she allowed herself the luxury of giving him a long, tender kiss. Dom's mouth worked against hers, albeit carefully from the swelling.

When she finally pulled apart from him, he gave her a dreamy, winsome smile. "No faking that time," he said with lazy confidence.

Emilie didn't have the energy to tease him. "Definitely no faking," she concurred breathlessly. Then, smiling, she added, "No headaches?"

His eyes twinkled wickedly. "Well, I DO have a bit of an ache in my- OW!" He laughed as she punched him gently in the arm. "What?"

"You're just trying to get more sex," she panted with a laugh, kissing his chin, his nose, and fleetingly his lips.

"Can you blame me?"

Emilie chuckled, then moaned as she moved down his body and his flaccid cock slid free of her. "We need sleep," she said dreamily, kissing down his chest as she crawled backwards. "Sleep would be good." Nestling down with her head on his stomach and her hair fanned out across his chest, she closed her eyes.

"Comfortable?" he asked with a yawn, his hand resting on the back of her head.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, too tired to bother with full words.

"Sweet dreams, Sleeping Beauty," he mumbled, and she could make out the smile in his voice even if she couldn't see it.

Smiling herself, Emilie placed a kiss on his belly, just above the navel. "Sweet dreams, my handsome prince," she murmured in response.

 

 

**THE END**


End file.
